Candy by Candy
I suppose that the first thing that I should do is introduce myself. My name is Candice Marie Krieger. My real father gave me that name on the day that I was born, August 8, 1976. I haven't seen or heard from him since. I don't really blame him I guess. He was only 20 when I was born, and my mom was barely 17. I'm 21 and the last thing that I would want right now is the responsibility of raising a kid. We lived with my grandparents until my mom finished high school and got married again. That one didn't last very long either. I don't remember much about Steve. They were divorced when I was 3. After that my mom had a lot of different boyfriends. Like me, she seems to have a problem keeping her panties on. She married George when I was 9. He is a used car salesman and the biggest asshole that I have ever known. Righteous and pius as a saint on Sunday morning, and a lying, back stabbing thief the rest of the time. She must love him though, because they are still married. My sister, Debbie, was born 2 years later. She'll be 10 in March. They live in L.A. now, so I don't see them much. I never got the whole story but George got caught doing something stupid and they left Missoula in a hurry not too long after I moved in with Pete.
We live in Wisconsin now. Pete's dad has cancer and Pete wanted to be closer to home, so we moved here last August. I miss the mountains but the people are pretty much the same. Pete was able to get me a job as a waitress at a truck stop diner on I-94 that his friend Jimmy manages, and since that is the only thing I have ever done, that part of the transition has been pretty easy. Pete's brother, Tony, stayed out there for a couple of months to take care of selling the property and then moved here at the end of October. If it wasn't for their cousins, Steve and Jed, and my boss, Jimmy, I think I would have gone crazy those first 2 months. Pete was on the road most of the time, he's an independent trucker, and I am way too much of a slut to go that long without getting a cock in me. I suppose that I should be embarrassed to say that, but I'm not. Men have been telling me that I was a slut since I was 13, and it always makes me gush when they do, but it wasn't until I met Pete that I was finally ready to admit it to myself. Well, to be honest, it was Pete that made me admit it, in front of bar room full of his friends. I AM a slut. I know it and I love being one. I've always been this way and I'm not going to change now. If some people think that I am less of a person because of it, that's their problem.
Anyhow, the reason that I am writing this now is because one of my cyber masters, Bogey, wanted me to tell him how I lost my virginity when I was 13. I told Pete about it and he thought that it was great idea, but not enough. He thinks I have too much time on my hands anyway, so he has now ordered me to write a complete autobiography and to finish it by my birthday in August. I was never very good in English, in fact, if it wasn't for my horny pussy I probably wouldn't have passed at all, so try to bear with me as best as you can.
I don't really remember when I first discovered that it felt good to touch myself "down there". It seems to me now that I've always known it. I do remember that around the age of 8 or so I became aware that whenever I woke up in the morning my left hand was always clamped firmly between my thighs, and I remember my first orgasm. I was 11, and we had just moved into our new house on Ravalli Street. Actually, it was just new to us. I think the house itself was built back in the late 40s. All of the houses on our street were exactly the same. There were 2 bedrooms and a bath upstairs, a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom on the first floor, and a full basement with 2 stairways, one that went up to the kitchen and one that went out to the back yard. After growing up in an apartment it seemed like a mansion to me. My sister, Debbie, was a new born when we first moved in there so I had the whole upstairs to myself. My bath had one of those detachable shower massager heads and once I discovered what it could do to me I became the cleanest little girl on the block. After that first time it seemed like I could never keep my fingers out of my panties. It just felt soooo good. Other than when I'm being punished, I don't think there's hardly been a day since then that I haven't cum at least once.
My stepfather, George, was a used car salesman and rarely got home before 9pm, which was fine by me. My mom worked as a legal secretary for an attorney in Missoula and by the time she picked up Debbie, from her friend Karen's, day care center, it was usually 6 o'clock by the time she got home. So every day I would race the 5 blocks home from school, dump my backpack on the kitchen table, my dress and panties down the laundry chute, and diddle myself to heaven on my bed or in the tub. By the time my mom would get home I would be dressed in my sweats or a t-shirt and cut-offs diligently working away at my homework on the kitchen table.
About the time I turned 12 my boobs started to grow. And grow. My mom said I was an early bloomer just like her. I guess I was. By the time Christmas rolled around that year I was already a B-cup and all my girlfriends were still in training bras. It wasn't too long after that, that I noticed how hard my nips would get every time I got horny, and discovered how good it felt to have one hand pinching one of them while the other one was strumming away like a guitar pick on my clit.
To be honest, I guess I was already a slut even then. School was boring, and it seemed like I just couldn't stop myself from daydreaming about playing with myself. As soon as the thought would cross my mind, my nips would turn into rock hard little eraser heads, my pussy would start to juice, and it would be all I could stand to wait until lunch time, so I could duck into the girl's bathroom and bring myself off in one of the stalls. And now that I think about it, I guess that is when I first discovered that cumming in a public place like that, instead of alone in my bedroom, made me cum even harder. I suppose it was the danger of getting caught that did it to me, but once I started doing it at school, it wasn't very long before I got the idea of finding other places.
In our part of town the neighborhoods all had alleyways that ran between the backyards. Every other house on our block shared a common driveway that split in two about halfway from the street and ran back to the detached garages. Between our garage and Mr. Sanders' there was a grass strip about 4 feet wide that ran back to the lilac bushes that bordered our backyards from the alley. I think it was April the first time I did it because I remember it was warm and that all I had on that day was my blouse and jumper. The fastest way home, of course, was to cut down the alley and through the bushes between the garages. I had been coming home that way since we first moved there.
That day I had almost been caught by my teacher, Mrs. Destry. She had given me a pass to the girl's room during reading and I had obviously been enjoying myself too long without realizing it, (prolonging it to make it even better), and she came into the girl's room looking for me, just as I was about to cum. So, by the time I pushed through those lilac bushes my panties were soaked, my nips felt like they were going to rip through my bra, and my legs were shaking so much it was all I could do to drop down on my hands and knees and bring myself off right there on the grass between the two garages with my backpack still on my back. It was, without a doubt, the best orgasm I had ever had up to that point. There were cars going by on the street out in front and the thought that one of them might drive in and see me back there had me gushing like a fire hydrant. I don't even remember when it finally stopped. The next thing I do remember is realizing that I was face down on the grass with my left hand between my legs and that my panties were very VERY wet. My legs felt like rubber but somehow I managed to get up and go inside. But just as I was going through the back door my pussy started to gush again when I heard the sound of Mr. Sanders' car pulling into the drive way. Just knowing how close I had come to getting caught drove my pussy crazy and I loved it. I watched him get out of his car and go into his house through our kitchen window as I brought myself off again, thinking about what he would have done to me if he had caught me back there.
Mr. Sanders was a widower. I never met his wife. She died when his sons were still in grade school. He had raised them by himself. I've never met the oldest one. He was married and lived in Texas I think. The youngest one, Tom, was in the Army. I only met him a couple of times when he was home on leave. I think Mr. Sanders was in his mid to late 40s when we first moved there. He worked at the Stone Container plant out in Frenchtown on the day shift and usually got home about 15 minutes or so after I did. He was tall and strong, with bright blue eyes that always seemed to be laughing at me when I looked at him. I think he knew long before anyone else what kind of a girl I was going to be. He had blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard that somehow made him look much younger than he must have really been, considering how old his sons were. He and my parents became good friends as soon as we moved in. My step father and him were both car nuts and were always borrowing tools from each other or going to car shows. In fact the whole neighborhood was pretty close back then. As soon as the weather would warm up it seemed like every weekend somebody would have a cook out in their back yard.
Cumming between the garages and then again in the kitchen had changed something in me. Somehow just lying on my bed wasn't good enough for me anymore. But I knew that I wasn't going to be able to get away with doing it out in the open like that very often, no matter how much I wanted to. So the next day when I got home I dumped my backpack on the kitchen table and went back outside to find a place that would be a little more discreet, but still risky enough to make me cum like I had the day before. The first place I found was at the bottom of our basement stairwell. For the next week or so I would head down to the bottom of the stairs and slowly start to bring myself off as I listened for the sound Mr. Sanders' car. As soon as I would hear that car door slam I would start to gush, just from the thought that, instead of going in to his house, he could very well be walking in to our back yard to borrow a rake or something, and would find me. And then, with sopping panties and wet thighs I would slowly make my way to the top of the stairs and peer out to make sure that he really had gone inside, and then race to the back door and into the kitchen.
My panties were becoming something of a problem at that point. I've learned since then that not all girls cum like I do. Some just cum a little and some cum a lot. I definitely fall into the second category. It doesn't spray out of me like when I'm peeing but it does flow. Gushes really. When I cum my pussy goes crazy. It opens and contracts through a series of spasms that push my cum out of me in globs, for the lack of a better word. Tony says that if it wasn't for the color and thickness of it he would swear that I was slowly pissing myself. And there is always sooo much of it. Even back then, whenever I would cum my panties would be soaked through half way up to the waist band. I couldn't just throw them down the laundry chute. Sooner or later my mom would come home from work one day and decide to do a load of laundry and find them. So I would hide them under my bed until they dried out. Now I may not be the smartest girl in the world, even if I am blonde, but I'm not stupid. One afternoon, as I was spreading my panties out under my bed, it finally occurred to me that the best way to avoid getting discovered was to simply not get them wet in the first place.
So the next day when I got home I dropped my book bag on the table and my panties down the chute. God, to this day I still remember the thrill I got when I stepped out on to the back porch without any panties on under my dress for the first time. I felt sooo nasty! Like I was really being bad. My pussy started gushing and my legs were shaking so bad that I barely made it to the bottom of the stairwell before I started to cum, and I hadn't even touched myself yet. As soon as I did, I had an orgasm that was the best yet, even better than that day between the garages. I think half the reason that it felt so good was due to the rush I got from the feeling of my cum gushing out of me a running down my thighs.
After that, going without them became almost an obsession with me. As soon as the last bell would ring, I would run to my locker, throw whatever books I needed into my backpack, and then duck into the girl's bathroom so that I could strip them off for the walk home. I loved the naughty feeling that it gave me. Just knowing that all I would have to do was to trip and fall, or thinking about one of the boys running by and pulling my dress up as he passed by me, kept my pussy juicing the whole way home. My little routine worked well for about a week, and then it rained.
Rain in Montana is nothing like the violent thunderstorms that we have here in Wisconsin. In Montana we get the "driz", a very light continuous rain that sometimes lasts for 3 or 4 days in a row. The first day wasn't too bad, I just went up to my room, but it wasn't nearly as good as the feeling that I got from doing it outside in the stairwell. So the next day I knew I was going to have to find another hiding place. The whole way home I remember looking for a place that I could duck into, or under, to get out of the rain. All I needed was a place to hide for just a few minutes, but other than the picnic tables in the park two blocks away there just wasn't anywhere. Even as horny as I was, I knew that would be pushing it. It wasn't until I was walking between the garages that I suddenly realized what a perfect place the loft of our garage would be. Not as good as the stairwell, but at least I would be out of the rain. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
I didn't even go inside the house first. I was way too worked up to take the time for that. I just dropped my pack on the empty garage floor and climbed up there. There wasn't much up there. Just a few boxes of Christmas ornaments and some junk that my parent's didn't know what else to do with. There was only one light, just a bulb with a little pull chain that hung down from the ceiling. I didn't even turn it on at first. I was too horny to do anything but sit down with my back against one of the boxes, pull my dress up over my waist and give my aching pussy the relief it needed. It wasn't until after I had cum that I started to worry about the spiders. I hate spiders. So I turned the light on. That's when I saw the boxes. There were four of them but they were way over in the corner with an old blanket draped over them and I remember how odd that seemed to me. Most of the stuff was pretty much gathered around the opening but these boxes were all by themselves and my curiosity was a lot stronger than my fear of spiders.
They were full of my stepfather's porn mags. Playboy, Penthouse, Club, softcore, hardcore, you name it, he had it. It seems odd but up to that time I had never really thought about cocks at all. I knew about them of course, and I knew from health class that they were pretty important when it came to making babies. But I had never really put the connection together that they had to be inside of me for that to happen. It didn't take me long to figure it out. The Playboys did nothing for me, but those hardcore ones sure did. Cocks in vaginas, cocks in asses, cocks in mouths, before I was even aware of it I was back up against the Christmas boxes with 3 or 4 of those mags spread open around me and literally groaning through my second orgasm of the afternoon. When I finally calmed down enough to look around I realized that I must have been making a lot more noise than I had thought, because the first thing I saw was the grinning leer on the face of our next door neighbor, Mr. Sanders.
Mr. Sanders was grinning at me when he spoke. The joy in his eyes at discovering me, splayed out in front of him, gushing all over my fingers like that, didn't match the harshness in his voice at all when he said, "I suggest that you put those magazines back where you found them and get your slutty little cunt downstairs, young lady!" It was the first time anyone had ever called me a slut, and just the sound of the word started my pussy gushing again. I scrambled to follow his orders and gathered up my step father's mags. By the time I turned around again from the far corner of the loft, he had already disappeared. He was waiting for me below the opening and that only made my pussy gush more. I knew that he could see right up my short jumper. The first thing he asked me when I turned around to face him was, "Where are your panties, Candice?"
I remember that I felt like my face was turning beet red when I pointed to my back pack. It was still lying on the garage floor, near the side door, right where I had dropped it in my rush to get up to the loft. I'm a natural blonde, and blushing when I am embarrassed is something that I have never been able to control. But I remember that I was excited too. My nipples were rock hard, and my pussy just would not stop gushing, which in turn fed on my feeling of embarrassment, because I knew that sooner or later he was going to notice the sauce rolling down the inside of my thighs.
Mr. Sanders looked at my back pack and then back down at me. He had a nasty smile on his face, but all he said was, "Why?"
I can't count the number of times since then that men have asked me that question, but that first time still stands out in my mind. I thought that my pussy was going to explode and felt like my whole body was on fire, as I explained to him that I had put them in there so that they would not get soaked when I came.
His smile had turned into a grin by then, "So let me get this straight, you walked home from school, came in here, took your panties off and put them in your backpack, and then crawled up into the loft to masturbate to George's porn mags?"
As I was listening to him, something in my eyes must have told him that he didn't quite have the whole story yet, because before I could even begin to answer he said, "No, that's not right, is it, Candice?"
The way he was looking at me there was no way that I could lie to him. I didn't even try. By the time he was through cross-examining me, I had not only admitted to him that I had actually taken my panties off at school that day, but everything else that I had been up to for the previous six months as well. I know now that he was enjoying the whole sordid little scene, but I wasn't even 13 yet, and thought that he was serious when he finally asked me just what I thought my mother was going to do to me when he told her what a little slut she had for a daughter. With summer vacation only a few weeks away I didn't even want to think about what she would do. One thing was sure, if he told her, I would be spending the entire summer grounded instead of at the pool with my friends.
By the time I was through begging him to pleeeeese not tell her, I had agreed that I at least deserved a spanking, and that I would let him give it to me. There was an element of a game to all of this, certainly on his part. At that point he could have told me to jump up and down and screech like a monkey and I would have done it. He knew that he had me, and I knew that he knew it. But there was an element of it on my side too. My pussy was gushing, he had already forced me to explain how I had cum, watching him through our kitchen window, or from our basement stairwell. So he knew that I had a crush on him, even if it was more lust than emotion. What I really wanted was for him to throw me down on the floor and fuck me, (and I think he knew that too), so I was more than willing to accept any attention he was willing to give me, even if it was a spanking. Just the anticipation of it had me gushing, and he could see that.
When I think about it now, Mr. Sanders, like most of the men I've known, always knew just how to read me. Somehow he just seemed to know that humiliating me sexually was what I had been craving. He certainly knew it before I did. Not that it would take a rocket scientist to figure it out. I mean what else could he think about a girl who was constantly masturbating in public, and running around with no panties on, gushing like crazy from the hope that she might get caught.
He pulled the stool from my stepfather's work bench out into the middle of the empty garage and then grinned down at me again, leaving it up to me to make the next move. I knew that by bending over that stool I might be acquiescing to more than just a spanking, that he might decide to do more to me than just redden my cheeks, and that thought had me so excited that I thought my legs were going to give out before I could get to that stool. As soon as I had my belly draped over the seat he ordered me to reach back and pull my jumper up over my waist. Then he told me to spread my legs, turn my toes in and hold on. I was ok up until then, but as soon as I turned my toes in, I felt my lips open and a huge glob of cum gushed out of my pussy and dripped to the floor. I was looking back through my legs and when I saw that, I knew that he had seen it too. My pussy went absolutely crazy. Every muscle in my body began to spasm as my orgasm washed through me and glob after glob of thick clear cum gushed out of my open pussy onto the floor between my feet. It seemed to go on forever. Just when I would think that it was slowing down another glob would drop to the floor and set me off again. And the whole time Mr. Sanders was standing behind me making it worse by laughing at me and telling me what a little slut I was for cumming like that in front of him. When I finally did start to calm down, he ordered me not to move, and walked out of the garage.
I don't really know how long he was gone, but it seemed like a half an hour at least to me. I knew better than to move, but the anticipation was making my pussy all twitchy, and the fear that it was getting late, and that my mom would come home and find me like that, was even worse. The longer I waited the hotter my poor pussy got until finally I couldn't stand it anymore, reached back between my legs and stroked my aching clitty to another creamy orgasm. I never heard Mr. Sanders come back in.
I had my eyes closed and three fingers buried in my pussy when I suddenly heard him say, "I told you not to move, you little slut!" That word, "slut", crashed into my brain at the exact instant that the paddle he had brought back from his house crashed into my butt. God it hurt! I barely had time to pull my hand out of my snatch and let out a pain-filled scream before the next 3 landed on me, one after the other, each one followed by a yelp from me. He was serious! I had never been spanked like that. My ass felt like it was on fire and all that heat surged straight into my pussy.
Mr. Sanders walked around in front of me, squatted down and lifted my chin with his hand. I could barely see him through my hair but I knew he could see the tears rolling down my cheeks because he brushed them, and my hair, out of the way with his other hand. He then asked me how many spanks I thought I deserved for all the slutty things I had done that day. When I told him that I didn't know, he got up, walked behind me, and let me have a couple more. Then he came around and lifted my chin again. He didn't brush my hair out of the way though, instead he informed me that from then on I was to address him only as "Sir" when we were alone. I suppose if I had been thinking at the time I would have realized right then that as far as he was concerned, there were going to be a lot more 'alone' times ahead. I was thinking, of course, but not about that. I was thinking about how sore my ass was, how hot my pussy was, how many more spanks I was going to have to endure, but mostly about trying to remember to call him "Sir", so that I wouldn't get any extra ones.
Then he began to add up my total. Actually, he made me do the adding. Since I was still 12 he decided that I would get 12 strokes for each offense. Just the way he did it had my pussy gushing globs of cream on the floor before he even started spanking me again. I still have dreams about that day. I can't count the number of times I have been awakened since then, in the middle of an orgasm, because I was dreaming about Mr. Sanders holding my chin up and forcing me to look at him, as I answer each of his questions with a "Yes, Sir" and try desperately to keep count.
"Did you take off your panties at school today, LIKE A LITTLE SLUT, and walk home without them?"
"Yes, Sir" (12)
"Did you crawl up into the loft today without your panties, LIKE A LITTLE SLUT, and get into George's porn magazines?"
"Yes, Sir" (24)
"Did you pull up your skirt, LIKE A LITTLE SLUT, and masturbate to those magazines?"
"Yes, Sir" (36)
"Did you masturbate again, LIKE A LITTLE SLUT, even after I ordered you not to move?"
"Yes, Sir" (48)
"What are you, Candice?"
I knew what I was by then, he had said it enough times to permanently drive it into my brain, but having to admit it out loud to him like that, sent me over the edge again and into another gushing orgasm. I told him, "I'm a little slut, Sir."
My body was shaking on that stool so hard that I thought I might fall off. I was watching my cum pour out of me onto the floor and with each glob it seemed like all of my muscles would spasm even harder. When I saw Mr. Sanders standing behind me again it only got worse, because I knew that he was watching my pussy slit open and contract and gush in front of him. And I knew that I really was a slut.
He wasn't about to let me have any illusions about it though. Just when I thought that my orgasm couldn't possibly become any more intense he pushed two of his fat fingers into my gushing slit and started fucking me with them. That was the first time that I ever crashed through what I call the 'plateau'. My eyes rolled back and I was gone. I didn't black out, but I wasn't there either. I had had my own fingers in there, of course, but they didn't feel ANYTHING like his big fat ones did. He was really fucking me with them, pushing them into me as far as they could go, all the way up to my cherry. Hard, so that I knew just what it was that he was pushing against, and GOD, how I wanted him to push through it!
I'm not sure how long I was out of it like that, writhing and cumming and gushing on his fingers. But the first thing I was aware of again was the sound of my own voice, begging him to "PLEEEEESE FUCK ME!", over and over again, and the sound of him laughing. After letting me beg him at least a half dozen times, he finally pulled his fingers out of me and told me no. He said that I would have to earn that, first. (God, how many times have I heard that from men in the last 8 years?)
He gave me another whack with his paddle to get my attention and then asked," So, how many have you got coming, little slut?"
I wasn't sure if it was 48 at that point, or 12 more just for being a slut, so I played it safe and told him 60. He then explained his rules to me. After every stroke I had to thank him, and then beg him for the remainder. If I lost count along the way, we would start over. So after the first one I said, "Thank you, Sir. May I please have 59 more?", and it seemed like each time I said thank you, my pussy would absorb the heat from my ass and push out another glob of cum. We didn't even make it to 50 before he had to stop. I was cummming so hard that my legs just sort of gave out and I somehow ended up on the concrete floor, laying on my side with both my hands pressed against my slit as hard as I could.
By the time we reached 40 I became aware that I was actually arching up on my toes in anticipation of the next stroke. I don't know how to explain it, but the sting, and the heat had become pleasure and warmth somehow, and all of it had me riding one long orgasm that just seemed to go on and on and on. By the time we got to thirty I was mumbling "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" between my thank you's. That's when Mr. Sanders decided to stop.
I don't think I'll ever know for sure why he decided to stop after the first 30. Perhaps he was worried about bruising me, or his arm was tired, or he may have just wanted an excuse to spank me again at another time. But from the size of the bulge in his pants when he walked around in front of me it's my guess that my constant begging for him to fuck me was driving him crazy.
What he said was, "I told you, little slut, you're going to have to earn that!"
I was a mess. My legs were coated in goo, my hair was hanging over my face, wet and stringy, my ass was on fire, my pussy just wouldn't stop twitching, and I could see a puddle on the floor between my feet. At that point I would have done ANYTHING to earn it and I told him so. I begged him to tell me what I could do. He told me.
I don't really remember a spot here. It's like there is a gap or something. Perhaps the shock of seeing his huge rod springing out of his jeans or the words he used to order me to my knees was too much for my already overloaded brain. Whatever caused it, I sure don't remember him doing or saying anything. Maybe I went into that 'plateau' area again and had another major gusher. Even the next day I wasn't sure how I came to be on my knees on the garage floor, with his hands on my head, and his cock pushing into my throat for the first time as he taught me how to breathe through my nose on the down stroke to keep from gagging on it. I do know one thing though. I was loving it! And I was cumming again! The taste and feel of his cock and precum, his hands controlling me, being on my knees as he literally fucked my mouth all of it combined had my pussy in a spasming frenzy that just wouldn't stop. When he came in my mouth I lost it. If he hadn't been holding on to my head I think I would have just collapsed I was so high. It was wonderful; sweet, hot, thick, creamy, and a little salty all at once. It was the most amazing stuff I had ever tasted. To this day, I still have what can only be described as an addiction to the taste of cum!
I was still cumming when he finally let go of me, and allowed me to collapse to the floor with my hands between my legs. When I finally calmed down again he made me lick him clean and allowed me to gently put his cock back into his jeans and zip them up. Then he handed me the paddle. When he got to the door he turned back to me and grinned. That's when he informed me that since we had only made it to 30, I still had 30 more to go, and that he expected to find me 'ready' for him when he got home from work the next day. When I asked him what he meant by 'ready', he told me. Then he walked out the door as my pussy started go crazy all over again.
When Mr. Sanders walked into our garage the next day he found me waiting for him, just the way he had ordered. I was bent over the stool with my skirt up over my waist, my legs spread apart, my toes turned in, and I was desperately trying not to cum as I clamped down on the handle of that ping pong paddle in my pussy.
I'm not sure how long he was gone before I calmed down enough to get up, put the stool away, grab my back pack and the paddle and head for the house. I do remember how warm and numb and wonderful I felt though. It was better than any drug I could ever imagine, and I wanted more. At least I wanted more until I saw the clock in the kitchen, and realized that I only had about 10 minutes to get myself cleaned up and doing my homework at the kitchen table like normal, before my mom and little sister got home. It almost seems amazing to me now, that in all the years that Mr. Sanders used me as his slut, we never once got caught by my mom. God knows he sure pushed it to the limit enough times. Then again, she may have known, and figured that I was safer with someone she knew than with a guy she didn't. One thing I do know for sure, she wasn't about to let me get pregnant as young as she did. As soon as I had my first period she took me to our doctor and had her put me on the pill.
The next day at school was torture. I couldn't get Mr. Sanders out of my head or the heat from what he had done to me out of my pussy. Every recess and most of my lunch period found me in the girls' room. I think I must have cum 5 times that day before that last bell finally rang and I was able to pull my sopping panties off and stuff them into my pack for the walk home. Actually it was more of a run. I was so worked up by then that it was all I could do not to stop along the way and frig myself off.
Mr. Sanders found me just as he had ordered. But as soon as he walked up to me I started to cum and that damn paddle squirted out of my pussy and onto the floor. He just laughed at me as I gushed, and informed me that since I had dropped the paddle I could add 12 more to my total. That day he let me have all 42 of them, even though I was cumming and begging him to fuck me almost from the beginning. When he was through he again informed that I would have to earn my first fucking, and that no matter what, I would have to wait until I turned 13. He then asked me if I wanted to suck his cock again. When all I could manage through my heat was to look up at him and nod my head, he gave me 5 more whacks, and informed me that if I wanted to suck his cock, I would have to beg for it properly and address him as "Sir". And that, quite simply is how he managed to keep me in spanking debt to him for the next 4 years, when he moved to Arizona. By making me beg for sex, I was being a slut, and therefore deserved another spanking on the following day, 12 for being a slut, and 12 more for actually doing what I had just begged for. The only thing that ever changed was the total, every year on my birthday from then on it went up by one.
It really wasn't fair in a way. I couldn't help it. Every time he would spank me for my previous behavior the heat would go straight to my pussy and before he was even half way done I would already be begging him to use me. And of course he always did, which again made me a double slut for letting him. Dysfunctional? I suppose. But god I love men who treat me that way. It makes me gush like crazy just thinking about it.
So I did it. As fast as I could, I got down on my knees on that garage floor and begged him to please let me suck his cock again. And of course he said yes, like that's a surprise. Only instead of cumming in my mouth, he let go of my head and hosed me with it, all over my face, hair and my blouse. Oooh god, what a gusher I had that day! It still makes me cum instantly when men hose me. There is something soooo nasty about letting them do that to me that my pussy just goes crazy, and that first time was no different. I was on my back on the garage floor with my fingers jammed into my snatch and Mr. Sanders was standing there looking down at me, laughing, which only made me cum harder. When I finally calmed down he informed me that girls who get off on being hosed are much bigger sluts than girls that just swallow, and that I could therefore expect to receive an extra 12 strokes the next day. God he was a master at that. No matter what I did, there was always some reason why I deserved an extra 12, or 13 or 14 or whatever. I don't remember a time when I didn't have at least 30 cumming to me. I probably still owe him at least that much. The last thing he did the morning he left for Arizona, was to push me into the space between the garages, where he filled my 16 year old ass with his jizz, shoved my first buttplug into me, and made me swear that I would keep it in me for the rest of the weekend.
After that second time he started to up the ante. He told me that the next day he would expect to find me "ready" for him at the bottom of his outside basement stairwell. "Ready" now meant that I was to be kneeling on the indoor/outdoor carpeting with my hands behind my back, and my blouse and bra neatly folded in a pile 3 steps up, so that they wouldn't get wet when he hosed me. Looking back on it now, I suppose I should be embarrassed or something that the thought of saying no never crossed my mind. Instead, my pussy started to gush, and I ended up with my fingers coated in goo as he walked out the side door.
I suppose I was an exhibitionist even then. Just the thought of being ordered to expose myself like that drove my pussy crazy, even if it was at the bottom of a stairwell. If anyone did come back there before he got home, I would have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and absolutely no defense. Only a slut would kneel at the bottom of a basement stairwell with her hands behind her back and her tits exposed, waiting for her neighbor to come home from work and hose her.
For the rest of that week and into the next Mr. Sanders would cum home from work each day to find me there, on my knees, with my hands behind my back, and my nips so hard you could hang weights from them. But what he enjoyed the most I think was the growing wet spot that he always found on the indoor/outdoor carpet between my knees. I just couldn't seem to help it. The exposure, the fear of getting caught by someone else, and the anticipation of another spanking followed by a hosing were all too much for my pussy to handle. I would try to hold out as long as I could, but sooner or later my pussy would just start gushing on its own, and my fingers would find their way down there, as I desperately tried to get off as fast as I could before he drove up.
Each day he would get out of his car and come down those stairs grinning at me. Then he would say something like, "Hello, Candy, I see that you've made a mess of my carpet again. Better add another 12."
Then he would unlock the basement door and lead me into his rec room, where I would obediently pull my skirt up, spread my legs, turn my toes in, drape my tummy over the arm of his easy chair, and beg him to pleeeeeeese spank me for being such a dirty little slut the day before. To this day I am not sure if I came harder from the spankings or from sucking his fat cock until he was coating my face, hair, boobs, and tongue with his hot jizz.
One thing I do know for sure is that I loved it. It was all I could think about. At school or at home his cock was constantly on my mind. I think I came as many times on the weekends, just from thinking about it, as I did from doing it during the week. And god, how he would torture me in front of my parents on the weekends. He and my stepfather, George, were always going somewhere, car shows, boat shows, gun shows, or working in their yards and borrowing each other's tools. Every chance he got he would ask me all these innocent sounding questions, like how was I 'cumming' along in school, or was I looking forward to be-'cumming' a teenager (in other words to my 13th birthday when I would finally get what I had been begging him for). Or he would 'accidentally' forget something that he had meant to bring over, and then send me to over to his house to get it for him. No matter what it was, I would always find it laying on the arm of his easy chair in the basement rec room, where he had, of course, purposely left it. And where I would have to drop my panties and frig myself off, because as soon as I would get to the top of those stairs my pussy would start to gush, and by the time I would get to the chair I would be shaking so much that I could hardly stand.
About 2 weeks before school got out he upped the ante again. From then on being 'ready' for him meant that my skirt was in the pile on the steps with my blouse and bra, and instead of laying 3 steps from the bottom, they were all 3 steps from the top. Somehow, that made it worse for me. There had always been the chance up until then, that if I did hear someone other than him pulling into the drive way, I might be able to get dressed in time, but not after he made me put them all the way up there. And knowing what a gushing mess he was making out of my pussy only seemed to spur him on. Instead of coming straight home after work he began showing up later and later, driving me crazy with the fear that my mother would come home before him, and find me kneeling at the bottom of his stairwell, naked, with my hands behind my back and a huge wet spot on the carpet between my knees. And instead of every day he would make me wait for him, so that after 2 or 3 days I would be almost crazy for his cock. I never knew when it would be either. All day long I would be gushing from the anticipation, only to find a note on his basement door that would either have BRS (be ready slut) or GHS (go home slut) written on it.
I suppose it was all pretty funny to him. No matter what he did to me I was always there, gushing juice down my thighs and begging him for more. When school got out he pushed me a little harder yet. He started putting times on his notes, like 11pm, or 1am, so that I had to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night by climbing down the cottonwood tree outside my bedroom window. The first time he did that to me I wore a pair of cutoffs and a t-shirt but he put a stop to that. From then on if I wanted his cock so bad that I would sneak out of the house for it, I had to be naked from the start.
God he was nasty. He had to have known what it did to me when he made me do stuff like that. Sneaking down that tree and through the back yards with nothing on drove me crazy just from the naughtiness of it all. And that didn't even compare to the way I would gush on the way back to my room, because he would never let me wipe his jizz off of my face until I was home. He always said that it would serve me right if my parents caught me like that, climbing through my bedroom window, naked, with jizz all over my face.
I know he knew what the thought of someone seeing me like that did to me. He had gotten ample proof of that the first week after school was out when he made me stay on the floor after he hosed me and took out his camera. Talk about crashing through a 'plateau'! Every time that camera clicked and that flash went off I thought my pussy was going to explode. And when he told me he was going to show them to all his buddies at work, it did. And of course he got pictures of that too. To this day I still gush when guys post my pics in a chatroom or when Pete plays one of my video tapes in front of his buddies. I guess it's one thing to know that I am a slut but something else to actually see myself being one.
Other times, next to the time would be a location. So the note might read '1am the park' or 'midnight between the garages'. And of course I would always be there, waiting for him, with nothing on but a pair of tennis shoes and slut sauce gushing down my legs. And that's the way he would leave me. God it made me cum hard when he would use me like that and then just get in his car and drive off or go back into his house. And of course I always had to make up the spankings later since he couldn't very well make that kind of noise in the middle of the little league outfield at that time of night.
About 3 weeks before my birthday he bought a video camera. I didn't know it of course. After making me wait for him in the park for over an hour he drove up and informed me that he had changed his mind and he would expect to find me 'ready' in his stairwell in 5 minutes or I wouldn't get to suck him for a week. I don't think I've ever moved as fast as I did that night. By the time I got there I was out of breath and gushing like crazy but that was nothing compared to the way my knees buckled when I saw that camera, mounted on a tripod and aimed directly at the arm of the chair. He really let me have it too. I came on the handle of the paddle when he pushed it into me, and made me hold it while he made me admit what a little slut I was for the camera. And I came for the camera when he spanked me. And I came for the camera when he fucked me with his fingers, and when he let me suck him, and when he hosed me. God, how I came that night. Just the sound of that damn camera whirring away as I gushed all over myself was enough to start me cumming all over again. And when he told me that the reason he bought it was for my birthday, so that he could show all his buddies what a little slut I was when he fucked me senseless for the first time, I lost it. And he taped that too of course.
When he finally let me go that night he informed me that he was leaving on his vacation the next day and then handed me a box. It was wrapped in the Sunday comics. He told me that if I really wanted him to fuck me on my birthday when he got back in two weeks, I would know what to do with it. Then he slapped my ass and pushed me out the stairwell door.
I don't remember how long I stood out there with that package. All I could think about at first was how disappointed I was that I wasn't going to get to suck him off again for at least two weeks. Eventually though my curiosity took over and I just had to open the present. And since I couldn't very well climb back up to my room with one hand, I snuck back between the garages and dumped the comic strip wrapping paper and the box in his trash can. I wonder if he saw them the next day and knew. I still have it. It isn't a very big one, 7 inches long and about an inch in diameter. But at the time it looked huge to me and sooo nasty. Just touching it had my pussy gushing again. So now you know. Most girls lose their virginity to some romantic first lover on a soft bed. I lost mine in the grass between the garages, next to a garbage can, on my hands and knees, to a plastic dildo.
It hurt a little at first. Even though I had had Mr. Sanders fat fingers in me a lot by then it was quite a bit bigger. But I was so worked up from the previous session with him and the video camera, and from the nastiness of fucking myself with it out there between the garages that it didn't take very long before I had the end of it coated in my juices. It wasn't enough of course. I wanted all of it in me bad, and having it stop every time it pushed up against my hymen was driving me crazy. But I was too scared that it was going to really hurt when it broke, to push it in all the way. I guess that's when I got the bright idea that if I was cumming when I shoved it in it might not hurt as much.
God, what a sight I must have been that night. On my knees with my face in the grass and my ass in the air, my left hand beneath me, frigging my clit and my right reaching back over my butt, pushing that dildo into my gushing twat. It worked though. Oh it still hurt at first, but I waited until I was right on the edge and then just rammed that cock into me and collapsed. God, what a gusher that was! All I could do was to hang on for dear life as my pussy convulsed and gushed on that plastic cock for what seemed like an hour. No, I didn't go home after that. I couldn't. As soon as my orgasm would let me I was back up on my knees and one hand, giving myself the fucking I had been craving for so long. I know I should be embarrassed to admit it, but I just couldn't help myself. It felt soooo good and nasty fucking myself out there like that, I just couldn't stop. I know I came at least twice, if not three times, before I finally gave in to the inevitable and went home.
I suppose I could have held it in one hand and still made it up the tree, but somehow holding it my mouth, and sucking my juices off of it, made more sense at the time. What a scene that would have been, if my mom or George had heard me, and came up to my room in time to see me crawling through the window with that plastic cock in my mouth. I know I was a sight because the first thing I did after I closed the curtains was to turn the light on so I could look at myself in the full length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Although the jizz on my face and boobs had dried to a sticky paste there was still plenty of it in my hair and my butt cheeks were still pink from my spanking. I guess even I should have known at that point that there has to be a time when enough is enough, but somehow I've never been able to get to that point. I was still just too worked up and had to see what it looked like. So the last thing I did before I finally crawled into bed was to get back down on my hands and knees do it again in front of the mirror. It didn't take long. Does it ever? Looking back over my shoulder at that nasty thing plunging in and out of my pussy had me gushing again in no time, and when I was through, I just couldn't bear to take it out. It felt so big and warm and wonderful that I just crawled into bed with it still in me and fell asleep.
I think I fell asleep with it in me every night for the next two weeks. I know it wasn't ever out of me for very long. About the only time it wasn't in me was when I was at the pool with my girlfriends. If I wasn't on my hands and knees, in front of my mirror, fucking myself to oblivion with it, it was still in me, snugged up by a pair of tight cut-offs. I even wore panties under my jean skirt, when my mom took me to the mall on the Saturday before my birthday, just so I could have it in me. Actually it was a good thing I did. At one point she barged into the dressing room, where I was trying on a new dress for school, with another one that she had found. Fortunately I had my back to the door when it opened, or she would have seen the lump in my panty gusset. But if it had been a couple of weeks earlier she would have caught me without any on at all.
Somehow I made it through those two weeks, but I remember that at the time I thought it would never end. When it came down to it, the dildo wasn't nearly enough. What I wanted was a real cock fucking me, and cum in my mouth and pussy, and on my face. It was probably good that my birthday fell on a Tuesday that year, because Mr. Sanders didn't get home until late Sunday night. I was a mess all day, hoping he would come home early enough for me to get to suck him off, but as it turned out, I was asleep when he finally drove up, and he left for work before I was up.
I remember pretending to be asleep when my mom left for work, but I wasn't. As soon as she was gone I threw on a t-shirt and a pair of cut-offs and ran barefoot over to Mr. Sanders house and down the stairs. It wasn't until I was at the bottom of the steps, and was staring at his note, that I wished I had brought the dildo. There wasn't time to go back for it, the note said 'BRS' and my pussy was gushing. It wasn't even 7am yet, and there I was, on my knees, in nothing but a t-shirt, with my cut-offs wrapped around one ankle, and three fingers in my snatch.
The rest of the day was pure torture. Just thinking about sucking him off when he got home had me wound up all day. I can't remember how many times I fucked myself, but I know it was a lot. When he finally did get home he found me waiting for him, 'ready'. My cut-offs and t-shirt were on the third step and I was on my knees at the bottom of the stairwell. The only thing different was that I had my dildo trapped firmly between my calves and buried in my pussy. I still remember the grin on his face when he got to the top of the stairs and saw that. He made me hold it in as he marched me into the rec room and pushed me over the arm of his chair.
God, he spanked me hard that day, and I had to keep it in me the whole time. First he gave me the 24 that I still owed him from our last session and I was gushing on that plastic cock from the first stroke to the last. When I finally calmed down, he put on the video that he had taken of me, and fucked me to another orgasm with it while I watched myself cum on the tv. God, I just came and came and came. It felt so much better to have him ramming it into me, and I looked sooo nasty on the video, with his cum all over my face and my fingers in my snatch, that I just exploded through that 'plateau'.
He was just getting started. He made me tell him everything I had done since he had left, and the whole time he just kept slowly fucking me with that dildo. By the time I had told him how I had fucked myself between the garages that very first night, and every day since, and how I had been walking around with it in me every chance I got, I was up over 150. He video taped the next 50 and made me admit to the camera how much I loved fucking my slutty little cunt with my dildo after every 10 strokes. Then he finally let me suck him off in front of the camera and hosed me. God it felt wonderful. My butt was still stinging and my pussy was aching and that hot jizz splashing all over me just felt soooo good. I was in heaven again, rolling on the floor with my fingers in my snatch and his jizz all over my face, gushing for him in front of the camera, while he looked down and laughed at me.
When I finally calmed down I thought he was going to finish my spankings, but instead he brought me crashing back to reality by looking at his watch and telling me that it was almost 6 o'clock. He was sooo nasty to me. He wouldn't let me clean up or take the dildo out. He said that since I liked running around town with it in me I could wear it home along with his jizz. God, I remember being so scared that my mother would drive up and see me with his jizz all over my face, and the wet spots on my t-shirt where it had smeared when I yanked it back on over my head. I made it in time, but barely. Somehow I was able to wash my face, brush my hair and put a clean t-shirt on, before she came in through the back door and called up to me. But I had to spend the rest of the evening trying not to cum in front of her with that dildo jammed into me by my cut-offs.
I remember that the morning of my birthday it was raining really hard, but I didn't care. As soon as my mom left, I threw on my t-shirt and cut-offs and ran over to Mr. Sanders with my dildo in me. I still remember how elated I felt when I got down to the door and saw that BRS on the note. Up until then I had almost convinced myself that somehow he would find a way to back out on our deal and make me wait even longer. God, I was sooo bad that day. I have no idea how many times I came over the next few hours but I know it was a lot. I was just so excited about finally getting fucked that it was all I could think about. And the more I thought about it, the nastier I got. Just bringing myself off in the stairwell that morning wasn't nearly enough to satisfy me.
Even though I was soaked and my boobs were clearly visible beneath that thin white t-shirt, the idea of going to the mini mart like that, with my dildo in me, was just too much to resist. I still remember the look on that clerk's face when I walked up to the register with my rock hard nips poking out at him. He kept staring at them while he was counting out my change and the look he gave me when he finished was sooo nasty I thought I was going to cream right then. As I pushed the change into my pocket with my left hand, that knowing sneer in his eyes just turned my insides to jelly. The thought of saying 'no' when he leaned across and told me to get down on my knees behind the counter and start sucking his cock was the furthest thing from my mind.
I think he was already counting change for the second customer before I realized that the store security camera was focused right on us. Just knowing that someone might be watching that tape later sent my pussy into spasms around my dildo, and that of course made me suck harder than ever. I don't remember how many times he had to reach down and push my head away because another customer was approaching and he was too close to coming to risk letting me continue. When he finally did let loose he let me drain him completely before he pulled his cock out of my mouth and tucked it back inside of his jeans. I was cumming like crazy of course. Just the thought of sucking cock has always been enough to get me going. Getting a whole mouthful of his sweet cum like that had my pussy gushing like crazy.
He could have cared less. Another customer had come into the store, and without even looking down at me, he just sort of nudged me out of the way with his knee. In his defense, I guess there really wasn't much else he could do with that guy standing on the other side of the counter. So I crawled down next to the opening and waited for him to leave. I still remember how slutty I felt down there on my hands and knees like that, and how my pussy just would not stop spasming and gushing around that dildo. Even though my cut-offs were soaked from the rain, I could feel my cream leaking out around the base of it and down my thighs. I was into one of those brain/pussy feedback loops that I seem to have spent half my life in. The more I creamed around that dildo, the sluttier I felt, and the sluttier I felt, the more I creamed.
I don't remember for sure but I think it was when I was down there on my hands and knees, creaming like the little slut I was, with the taste of his cum still in my mouth, that I decided how I was going to celebrate my birthday. Or it could have been after I left the owners office. As soon as that customer left, I stood up to leave, only to run straight into the belly of Mr. Sabonjian. He had seen the whole thing on the monitor in his office and told me that unless I wanted him to show the tape to my mother I would follow him into his office right then and there. I did of course. And I still remember how flushed my face felt when the clerk called to his boss from behind the counter and told him to "have fun, she's quite the little cocksucker."
Mr. Sabonjian led me through the swinging door between the coolers and into his 'office'. It wasn't much of an office really. Just this tiny room with a desk, a filing cabinet, a computer and a couple of monitors so he could watch the store. He didn't even shut the door. As soon as we got in there he just turned around, leaned back against the edge of his desk, unzipped his pants and pulled out one of the fattest cocks I have ever seen. It wasn't very long, maybe six inches at most, but it looked huge to me, and I remember thinking that I would never be able to stretch my mouth wide enough to fit it past my lips. Not that he cared. As soon as I was on my knees he just grabbed me by my hair and started to ram it against my lips. Somehow I managed to keep my mouth open wide enough, but if he had been any longer and had been able to get that thing into my throat, I know I would have choked on it. It hurt at first, but then the nastiness of him facefucking me like that reached my clit and I started to gush all over the dildo. Before he was even half way through with me I was cumming so hard that it was all I could do to just hang on to his pants legs with my hands. When he finally let loose he just pushed my head back off of his cock and let me have it. Up until then the only men I had seen cum were Mr. Sanders and the clerk, but Mr. Sabonjian hit me with twice as much jizz as the two of them put together. I kept trying to get close enough to his cock to get a least some of it into my mouth. But he was having none of that. He just kept the palm of his hand on the top of my head and let it spurt. He was so strong and the feeling of him controlling me like that, forcing me to stay put while he hosed me drove my pussy crazy. When he finally started to slow down he ordered me to stick my tongue out and lick him clean, and then, just like the clerk, he just sort of nudged me over with his knee and zipped himself up.
God I felt like such a little slut. I could feel his cum dripping off of my face onto my t-shirt, my lips felt like they were 2 inches thick, and I had both hands in my crotch pushing against my dildo as I knelt there, cumming in front of him, with my head down. I remember wondering what he would do to me if he knew about the dildo but he didn't give me any time to think about it. I was just getting the up courage to tell him, in the hope that he would fuck me, when he grabbed me by my hair and literally yanked me to my feet. He didn't say another word to me until he had pulled me out of his office and pushed me through the back door into the alley. I think that the leer on his face, when he informed me that the only way I was allowed to cum into his store again was through that back door, will be burned into my brain forever. Then he slammed the door shut and left me out there in the rain.
I suppose another girl would have been angry, but not me. The sound of that door slamming shut and the way that he had just used me for his little cumdumpster had my pussy churning. It was all I could do just to collapse in the gravel with my back against the wall and bring myself off again. And I guess that is when I decided that what I really wanted to do for my birthday, was to suck as many more cocks as I could until Mr. Sanders got home and fucked me senseless. Just the thought of doing it had me so worked up that I think I must have cum at least 3 more times before I felt sated.
It wasn't until I had calmed down again that I noticed the 2 dogs peering at me through the chain link fence from the yard across the alley and I realized what a sight I probably was. What I didn't notice was their owner watching me from his kitchen window. Knowing that I couldn't walk back home with Mr. Sabonjian's jizz all over my face, I pulled up the bottom of my soaked t-shirt and used it and the downpour to wash his cum off as best as I could, exposing my boobs and rock hard nips to the cold rain in the process. I had already pulled my shirt back down and was trying to spread the gooey stuff around with my hands so that the rain could wash it off better, when I realized that I had more than just the dogs watching me.
I guess it was the motion out of the corner of my eye, rather than the sound of his gravelly voice, that startled me so much. I just stood there, frozen in place, with my mouth open and my nips trying to poke holes through my shirt, as he walked across the alley and pushed me up against the wall. He was old, maybe 60 or so, with balding gray hair and a really weathered looking face. Grabbing both my boobs and squeezing them until they hurt he leered down at me and said, "Just what the hell do you think you're doing out here, girl?"
Even though his hands hurt, my boobs were aching for them and my pussy started to gush all over again as I tried to lie to him, "Nothing, sir."
"Like hell you were doing nothing. I saw you masturbating out here through my window. And what's that all over your shirt? It's cum isn't it? You're a little cocksucker, aren't you?"
God, his hands hurt soooo good and my pussy was going crazy, the last thing I wanted to do was to lie to him again. What I wanted was to suck his cock. But all I could manage to do was to look up at him and half whisper, "Yes, sir."
The grin on his face when I said that was almost evil. All he said was, "Good!", as he grabbed my wrist and half pulled, half dragged me across the alley, through the gate in the fence, and into his garage. His dogs followed us and sat there next to his car with their tails wagging as he pulled out his cock. Even though they were just dogs, the thought of them watching me as I dropped to my knees in front of him and pulled him into my mouth had my pussy churning. Ever since then, being watched like that drives me crazy. It was like they were better than me, judging me, and I remember wondering (hoping) that he would make me suck them off too, let them fuck me. Let them turn me into a dogslut as well as the little human cocksucking slut that I already was. When he finally came he held my head still with both hands and just let it all shoot into my mouth and throat, and down into my belly, as my body shook and my pussy convulsed around my dildo. He pushed me away when he was through, just like the clerk and Mr. Sabonjian, and told me to make sure that the gate was shut when I left. Then he walked out the side door and into his house, followed by his dogs.
God, I felt so nasty! I don't know how long I laid on his garage floor like that, with my dildo pressed up into me as hard as I could. I just couldn't seem to stop cumming. The thought of how they had all used me and then just pushed me away kept roiling through my brain and pussy. My whole body felt like it was on fire and I loved that feeling sooooo much! I was definitely back on my 'plateau'. I don't remember leaving his garage or whether or not I remembered to shut his gate. I was in so much of a daze that I must have walked for 9 or 10 blocks before I realized that it had stopped raining and that the sun was starting to come out. The sun only made the heat in my pussy worse though. As my shirt dried the stains from Mr. Sabonjian's hosing became more and more obvious. Just the thought of how nasty I looked started my pussy going again, and the lingering taste of the old man's cum in my mouth was making me almost desperate for more. I knew that I couldn't just walk up to any strange man on the street and ask if I could suck his cock, but I wanted to.
I guess it was the courthouse clock chiming noon that brought me out of it long enough realize that if wanted to get my shirt washed and dried before my mom found it, I had better turn around and head for home. Plus I hadn't had a shower yet, since I had left the house in such a hurry, and I wanted be as perfect as possible for Mr. Sanders and my first fucking. The only problem was that the taste of the old man's cum in my mouth and the thought of Mr. Sanders fucking me kept my pussy juicing on that dildo so bad that I just had to get at least one more load in me before I got home.
As it turned out I got a lot more than that. About 10 blocks from our house they were building a new subdivision. Even though it was way out of my way I just couldn't seem to stop myself from cutting through there just to see if I could find one more cock to fill my belly with jizz. I don't know, maybe I was still in my daze. As I wandered down the street past all the new houses all I could think about was getting a cock I my mouth. When I finally found the house they were working on I was almost breathless just from the anticipation. God, I was sooooo bad. I just walked right in there. There were 2 guys working in the kitchen and when they saw me standing in the living room looking like I had just been gangbanged it was like they both knew instinctively what I was there for. I didn't even say anything. All I could do as they walked up to me was to drop to my knees and look up at them with my mouth open. I was already starting to cum before the first one pulled his cock out. I really don't remember much after that. What I didn't know was that there were 3 more guys working upstairs and 3 more at the house next door. When they finally pushed me out the front door and told me to cum back any time I wanted more, I had at least 5 more loads in my belly and probably twice that many on my face, hair, and t-shirt, as most of them had cum back for seconds. God, I still remember their laughter as I ran down the street coated in their cum, spasming on my dildo, and scared to death that one of the neighbors was going to see me.
By the time I got home it was 3 o'clock, which barely left me enough time to shower and get ready for Mr. Sanders. But I didn't care. As soon as I saw how totally nasty I looked in my mirror, my pussy went nuts again. It was all I could to do to pull my pants off and fuck myself as hard as I could with my dildo while I stared at my slime coated face, hair and shirt. In the end all I had time for was the shower. I hid my t-shirt under my mattress and then dressed in the same school outfit that I had been wearing the day that he caught me in the loft of our garage. Except that this time I wore panties, to hold my dildo in. It didn't really matter though, they were all off again and folded neatly on the third step of his basement stairwell by 3:45. Even though my hair was still wet from the shower I didn't think that he would mind once he drove up and saw me kneeling down there. Waiting for him. Ready.
He didn't show up until almost 5 o'clock and by the time he did I was a sweaty, cum soaked mess. I was sooooo crazy with lust waiting for him that I must have fucked myself to 4 more cums by the time he finally appeared at the top of the stairs. He didn't even cum down the stairs. He just looked down and grinned at me and picked up my clothes. Then he told me that if I wanted them back, and still wanted to get fucked, I would be back down in his stairwell and 'ready' at 11 o'clock that night. And with that, he got back in his car and drove off.
I'm almost done with Part 3, I hope you like reading my story. If you want to write to me about it or even if you don't like it my e-mail address is firstname.lastname@example.org. I love getting mail from guys that want to use me and order me to do nasty stuff for them in real time and then write back and tell them about it. Love and kisses to all. Candy.
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